Ghost of You
by whispered touches
Summary: Sometimes it's like he's still here. A ghost's shadow, breathing on my neck. Annabeth feels Percy's absence so strongly it hurts. Because she can see his ghost. The ghost of who he used to be. Post-TLH. One-shot.


_g h o s t  
>of you<em>

~o~

I notch an arrow, take a breath, pull it back and aim it at the target. He chuckles, aligning his arm with mine, fixing my fingers along the bowstring like he knows what he's doing.

"Raise your shoulder a little," he mutters in my ear. I shiver because he knows I can't, knows my shoulder was irreversibly damaged by Ethan's poisoned knife. The one I took for him.

I close my eyes. When I turn to look back at him, he's vapor in the wind.

My sweaty fingers slip. The arrow lands in the ground at the base of the target.

~o~

I pass his table on the way to the brazier. It's empty, but that's all right – he appears at my side, nudging me with his elbow, trying to get me to look at him. I don't.

Most of the food on my plate is scraped into the fire for my mother. I sit down so that I'm facing away from him, stare at my almost-empty plate; then someone says his name and I whip around, hope rising in me –

It falls and crashes. So does my plate.

People stare. I gather up what scraps I can off the floor, throw them into the fire, too, praying to Aphrodite.

We're both silent.

~o~

His bed looks slept in, blankets kicked off the feet like I know he does in his sleep. I lay down next to him, wrapping my arms around his chest, one brushing the small of his back. He doesn't react. Doesn't even take my hands.

My heart skips a beat. His is still. Cold.

Then I realize I'm only hugging myself.

His scent lingers on me as I leave.

~o~

I slip on the icy rocks of Zeus's Fist. It seems that no matter how hard I try to find the right handholds, the right footholds, no matter how high I climb, I'm always going to lose my grip, land flat on my back. I'm always going to get hurt.

"Go on, jump!" he's calling to me, and he's laughing. "I'll catch you."

But I don't bother to look down, because he won't.

~o~

I drive my dagger into a dummy's stomach, yank it out, and stab the next two in the shoulder blade and the chest. Straw is flying and I'm sweating although I can see my breath.

I'm whirling, about to deal the last dummy a devastating strike to the side, and my knife meets a sword with a _clang_.

He grins, not even struggling to block my blow. He twists his blade: Mine spins out of my hand. He points the tip of his sword at me.

"Close," he says, teasing, prodding me gently with it, "but no cigar."

I'm breathing heavily and catch the water bottle he tosses me by instinct alone. Instead of drinking it, I throw it as hard as I can at his head.

The bottle dissolves into mist. My dagger lies in the dust at my feet.

~o~

He steps out of the shadows behind the cabins. His arms are spread wide open. He isn't smiling, but his eyes hold tenderness and affection. _Recognition_.

And I run to him, feeling lighter than air, ready to leap into his embrace and have him hold me because my skin is burning for his touch after what seems like a lifetime apart –

And I crash into him.

And I fall to the ground, banging my knee hard against solid ground, my hands scraping on tiny rocks as I attempt to catch myself, letting my head hang forward.

I look up at him. He's standing a few feet away, staring blankly; the spark of recognition is gone. He begins approaching, slowly at first, then with an unprecedented urgency, desperate to find out who I am, who he is.

I scramble to my feet and run.

Away.

I'm faster than him, I'm outrunning him – but when I glance over my shoulder, he's a wolf, black as night, fangs bared and snarling.

I trip, skid across sand. I didn't even realize I was heading toward the beach. It's not full sand yet, though, and all along my arms are bloody scrapes, deeper than they should be.

I don't have time to wince. A short bark and a growl close at hand propel me to my feet. I keep looking back; sometimes he's him and sometimes he's the wolf, but he is always the predator.

And I am the prey.

Again I slip on the sand, and this time I land half-submerged in water. I cough, splutter, stiffen as my cuts sting from the salt.

"Look what you did!" I scream, eyes screwed up against it all. I reach up to wipe water out of my face and find tears staining my cheeks, hot against the winter wind. "Look what you did to me!" I shriek it to the ocean, to the sky and stars and moon, past caring who does or doesn't hear me.

I dig my fingers into the mud, numb from the cold, and wait for his jaws to close around my throat.

The end doesn't come.

I open my eyes, push myself up, brush my wet hair off my forehead, try to steady my breathing. It doesn't work.

Finally, I stand. Water streams off me. My clothes are soaked.

I wrap my arms around myself, stare out to sea, and shiver.

There are no lights. No one is out except me.

~o~

Sometimes it's like he's still here. A ghost's shadow, breathing on my neck.

* * *

><p><em>an: this is set post-TLH, once annabeth discovers exactly what happened to percy. i figure it'd be worse than when she doesn't know anything. so, suffice it to say, annabeth REALLY misses him. poor annabeth. :( i'd also like to make it clear that yes, they were all hallucinations - "moments of insanity," as i like to put it. those are fun to write._

_for anyone who's interested - i have a Kane Chronicles Sadie/Walt fic going up within the week, so add me to alerts or be on the lookout for that. if that's your thing. _

_i was sick on monday and i'm not completely recovered, and i'm close to having a nervous breakdown at the amount of homework I have for the next week and a half, so some reviews would make me feel so much better. ;D_

_~whispered touches_

_disclaimer: don't own it. it's all rick riordan's. (i also don't own the song by my chemical romance of the same name as this story. i confess to being a bit of a fan. :P)_


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